


It's Only Gettin' Worse

by Simpleminds



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Ya'll its rough, apologies in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simpleminds/pseuds/Simpleminds
Summary: King Dice loves his casino, he cares about his employees, his customers, and his life among the glittering lights. Unfortunately for him, in order to stay there, King has to deal with an ornery, horny, abusive boss. How far will he go in order to keep his only home and the people he cares about safe?
Relationships: King Dice (Cuphead)/Original Character(s), The Devil/King Dice (Cuphead)
Kudos: 42





	It's Only Gettin' Worse

**Author's Note:**

> So I got high and edited together an old King Dice/The Devil short story that I made in 2018 when I was still processing a major trauma. It's a little rough around the edges, so just be careful - if you get triggered by rape, injury, manipulation, or abuse I would suggest that you don't read. This is my first published work so if you don't want to be witness to my ruination maybe skip too. I don't own Cuphead and if I did I would slap myself silly.

King stared in open dismay at the time on his watch. Shit, he's late. He mumbled a half-hearted excuse to Wheezey and shuffled quickly to his office. As soon as he opened the door, he knew that he was in big trouble this time - smoke wafted out of the open room, which was entirely pitch black. He fumbled for the light switch, trying not to cough even as his eyes watered terribly. The dusty overhead lamp flickered on, its yellow light revealing the matted fur of The Devil, reclining on King's leather swivel chair. Yellow eyes fixed on King's face, and the dice-head felt a foreboding chill trickle down his spine. "By all means, come in." The Devil's low voice crackled through the air, sounding like dry ice and wildfire. Taking a breath to compose himself, the die took three steps forward, arms crossed behind his back, coming to rest inches from his own desk, almost within grabbing distance. "Closer." The hairy demon snapped, his eyes flashing red with annoyance. Quelling a nervous shake, King silently dragged himself to the very edge of his desk, his gloved hand digging into his upper arm behind his back. In a flash, The Devil grabbed a hold of King's lapels and dragged the poor man within inches of his face. The smell of cigar smoke and hellfire was nearly unbearable this close to its source.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, you useless lackey?" King swallowed down his nerves, his gaze purposefully avoiding The Devil's, as he scrambled for purchase on the desk, the sharp edge digging into his hip.

"I - 'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." His voice broke around the hurried syllables, despite his attempts to remain composed. The discomfort from the position he was in, mixed with fear for his life removed what little composure he had left. The Devil chuckled a couple of times, revealing sharp yellowed teeth.

"Is that right, Dice? Then show me how really sorry you are." Dread pooled deeply in King's stomach - he had hoped that it wouldn't come to that tonight. Okay, time for diversionary tactics. He put on a disappointed face and forced himself to look into The Devil's eyes with as much faux lust as he could muster.

"I'd love to sir, but didn't you have something you wanted to talk about?" All amusement on the demon's face was quickly replaced with extreme displeasure. The large hand holding his lapels let go, only to grab onto his square head and shove it down, hitting the table with a loud clang. A small whimper fell out of King's lips, fear dragging the noise from between his clenched teeth.

"You think I can't see through your shitty act?" The Devil growled dangerously, hot air from his mouth brushing King's porcelain skin. He whimpered again as The Devil moved around behind him, raking a sharp claw across the top of his head. He found himself mumbling apologies over and over under his breath, even though he knew that it was too little too late. The Devil grabbed the top of his silk purple trousers and ripped them down to his ankles in one swift motion. King trembled like a spooked foal, his heart hammering against his chest. Satan grabbed his head again and leaned forward, "I'm giving you thirty, ten for being late, and the rest for being snarky. You will not lose count, or we will start over again, do you understand?" King nodded as best he could against the table, not daring to speak again.

"Good boy, do everything right the first time through and I'll give you a treat." with that, The Devil grabbed up a heavy ruler on the desk. He reared back and smacked King's smooth, soft porcelain skin, leaving a bright purple welt.

"O- one" he managed between gritted teeth, trying not to cry out. Making noise would make them start all over again, he'd found that out fast. It kept on going all the way to thirty, tears streaming down his face and thighs bleeding purple from broken skin. Finally satisfied, The Devil dropped the ruler onto the ground with a loud clang. He dug his claws into King's tender skin, grinning when more purple blood streamed from his touch. The die had also bitten his tongue in an attempt to keep silent, tasting the distinctive tang of blood in his mouth.

"My, don't you look just delicious," the demon growled, his voice low and throaty. The Devil bent down to lick the blood from between his thighs, occasionally digging teeth into a particularly tender spot."Tasty" he whispered, chuffing with laughter. He bent down and wiped the blood off of King's chin, sticking two bloody fingers into his mouth. "What do you think, Dice? You're pretty good, huh?" King shifted uncomfortably, his skin pulling and weeping. He doubted that he'd be able to sit down for at least a week, which would be highly inconvenient. He kept silent, unsure how to respond, his mouth lax around the two fingers to prevent sharp claws from cutting him open further. Sighing, The Devil pulled his fingers out of his mouth, "Well if you don't like 'em there, I'll just have to find a better place to put them." The Devil shifted back down to his bleeding back and spread his cheeks open. King shivered, despite the heated touch, and without warning, the demon slipped two clawed fingers into his entrance. They were sharp, scratching deeply inside him in a way that was pretty hard to deal with silently. Still, he gave it his best attempt, biting his lower lip hard enough to bruise. The fingers stretched him impossibly far, his skin tearing and ripping under the touch. Finally, The Devil seemed to deem him 'prepared enough' and he pulled them out.

"You've been a real naughty boy Dice, but you were good enough for me during your punishment, so here's your treat." Without further warning, the demon slid into his entrance - not pausing despite resistance until he was buried all the way. King found himself moaning, nearly delirious from the pain. The Devil seemed to take that as some kind of encouragement and began harshly ramming him over and over again, hard and fast and frenzied. He whispered a demon's idea of sweet nothings into King's ear, promising murder and blood and terror as he pistoned sharply in and out. King's mind went fuzzy, the pain driving him over an edge into near unconsciousness, his vision spotty and graying. After what felt like an eternity of this, The Devil shuddered to a stop, his red and yellow eyes rolling into the back of his head as he pumped out load after load of thick, oily cum. King whimpered in relief as The Devil finally pulled out, his giant length limp and spent. Cum dribbled out of his hole, running down his thighs, but King couldn't bring himself to care, laying bonelessly over the table.

The Devil reached out and softly traced the side of his die, smiling to himself as he said, "Get our books back into the green, Dice - and maybe our next talk will be more pleasant." Then there was the distinctive sound of a portal opening and closing, and King was alone once more. 

With another moan and a sharp hiss of pain, King dragged himself off of the table, kicking off his shoes, socks, and pants, which were around his ankles and useless. Slowly, carefully he limped to his office bathroom, flicking another light switch on. He glumly met his watery pale green eyes in the mirror, looking thoroughly messed up. His lower lip was swollen and split open, and there were long scratches in the side of his die, along with a nasty bruise developing above his left eye. King knew that he wouldn't be able to finish off work today, which sent jolts of disappointment into him. He loved his job, the casino meant the whole world to him. He resolved to call Wheezey as soon as he got to his room. With a soft groan, he turned the sink on, grabbing the towel off the shelf next to it, and began to clean himself up. The rough pull of the fabric against his healing wounds was excruciating, but he kept going, the pain was more manageable when it was intended to get him clean.

Once finished, King wrung out the dirty towel in the sink, while it had been white before, now it was varying shades of rich amethyst. With a sigh, he threw it into the garbage pail, deciding that he'd rather not deal with laundry at the moment. His legs shook as he stumbled stiffly back to his desk, purposefully looking away from the place he'd been bent over mere minutes before. King's head was throbbing painfully, he felt nauseous and unsteady. Trying not to moan in pain, he slowly pulled his briefs and slacks back on, the smooth fabric tugging at newly healing scabs. King stared despondently at his shoes and socks, his back screaming at him that there was no way he was bending back that far again any time soon. With regret, he let them be and padded barefoot out of his office. Immediately he was met with a wall of noise, King winced at the throbbing of his headache, spots dancing back across his vision. His office was out of the way of the general casino, but close enough that he could hear the usually welcome din. He mustered up all of his composure and began to walk confidently towards the noise.

If he could get to the nearby stairs without running into any of his employees, then he could write things off as being busy with paperwork, at least for now. Of course, that's not what happened because King's luck seems to have run completely out today. He'd been so focused on the staircase that he hadn't even noticed Blackjack until he'd slammed right into the man's broad shoulders. His employee whipped around a dark look on his face, the wire poking out of his dark hair crackled with static. Without even thinking about it, King cringed a little, unsure if the tall hothead was going actually take a swing. However, the furious expression quickly bled off of Jack's face, replaced with a contrite and slightly concerned one.

"Oh, I'm so sorry boss - um, are you-you okay?" King straightened himself out and fixed a cold look on the tall man.

"Perfectly fine, and it's none of your business, lackey." He put as much venom as he could muster into the word, trying not to remember how it had sounded coming from the Devil. He went to stomp off, struggling to stay as upright as he could, ignoring the pain shooting up and down his spine at every little movement. However, before he could get far, a large hand grabbed hold of his upper arm. Fear shot through him again, adrenaline kicking in as he whirled around, ready to fight for his life. However, instead of cold yellow eyes, he met sympathetic black ones. Jack pointed to his own lip and motioned towards King.

"You want something for that?" He clarified, probably indicating King's split lip. The fear was quickly replaced with anger, and King quickly shook him off, eyes flashing wild and dangerous, like a cornered animal. A sneer twisted his mouth, cruel in a way that King rarely was. "Absolutely not, it's nothing." He spat viciously at his hapless employee, resuming his angry stomping to the staircase. He grabbed hold of the banister, trying not to lean on it too much in case anyone was watching him. Going up the stairs turned out to be an awful task, and he was forced to stop in the middle of it. King turned to overlook his casino, full of bright lights and brighter music.

Chips was working the Texas Hold Em table, tipping his hat to a sophisticated fish woman who passed by. The tipsy troop was working the bar, Marti shaking up a Manhatten while Scot and Whiskey wiped down the bar. Wheezey was doing blackjack or at least trying to, while Hocus distracted half the table. Pip and Dot were chatting earnestly in the corner with Jack, while Phear fleeced some unlucky betters. Chimes and Mango were dragging a loudly complaining cheater out the back door and Letta giggled at her post at the receptionist's desk at something Chimes said in response to the man's loud upset shouts. Even the damn cup boys managed to make him feel slightly sentimental, Red was chatting the ears off of a new patron while Blue took her coat with a goofy smile. Looking down at his whole life, his livelihood, his family, King found himself beginning to cool off a little. Whatever abuse he had to face from down below was nothing compared to the light, the love, and the fulfillment he got from the casino. His people depended on him to be a voice of reason with The Devil, and he was not about to let them down.


End file.
